Out, Out
by Thunderhowl
Summary: He hums the tune, ready to whisper the words-- and stops, his heart clenching in horrorpainterror, because he has forgotten the words, and she, like a brief candle, has burned away from his mind. LJ prompts, uber- angst, trauma, death. Brom/Selena


**Hello, ppl of !! Well, I, thunderhowl, have officially failed epically. I started to write this, a 13-prompt drabble, for wildskysong, to shake her from her misery. However, this is a Brom/Selena thing, which is so freakin' tragic that nothing good can come of it, so damn, I have brought even more angst into the world. **

**Ah, well. So, this was one of those prompt thingies on LJ, which WSS got me addicted to. Brom/Selena is the most tragic pairing in the Inheritance, and one of my favs, so I felt compelled to write.... I broke the rules a little, though. They were supposed to by 100 words or less.... and I sort of failed.... Oops.**

**WSS, forgive me. Ah, I know!! Crack makes everything better! Also, the smashedtogetherwords are intentional, I promise.**

**Disclaimer- Nope, don't own. **

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"Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow..." -Macbeth

Theme 1: Forgetfulness (97 words)

"Are you lost?" The beautiful warlike woman stops and looks at him, hidden beneath his full beard and servants clothes.

He blinked, startled. He tries to say something, but his mouth, usually full of wit and flair, wild stories and cunning lies, was dry, the words gone. "Ah, um….. Yes?" He says softly, averting his eyes from hers, his brain whirling with _dammit, Brom, look away, look away!_

"The gardener chambers are down the hall." The beautifulfierceangel woman smiles, pointing, and he feels his knees turn to quivering lumps.

"Thanks." He mutters, and turns. "I won't forget."

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Theme 2: Running Away (121 words)

"Are you avoiding me, master gardener?" She demands, he cheeks flushed, her eyes blazing, her hands on her hips.

"No, milady." He murmurs, keeping his eyes averted, knowing the spinning madness that will flood his veins if he meets her eyes, her perfect, shining, dark brown eyes. "I do believe that our positions do not make time for contact. You are a lady, and I am a mere servant."

Something bitter flashes in her tone. "There is not as much difference in our positions as you might think, master gardener."

He gratefully takes the opportunity to flee the bitterness- and hurt in her voice, because he knows that one day, he will crumble and comfort her, and all will be lost.

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Theme 3: Sunsets/Sunrises (140 words)

She always sees him at sunset, out tending the garden carefully, his gingery hair hiding his eyes. He never sees her, she knows, for she is hidden in the shadows, afraid of Morzan's rage at uncovering her and her secret. But as she watches the sun set behind him, setting his ginger hair alight, she hopes and imagines a better life, where the sunset is tangible, and she is free.

He always sees her at sunrise, standing on the walls of the castle, her face still and calm, saluting the new morning. She never sees him, he knows, for the castle is full of places to hide, and she would hate him, if she knew, for intruding on her private moments. Even though his heart cries to be with her, he stays, for he _knows_ that it can never be.

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Theme 4: Make Believe (99 words)

Sometimes, in the dark times, the times when _he _comes back from killing, drenched in blood and gore, demanding her, she imagines that the hard, cold-eyed man before her is gone, replaced by the gardener, and the mismatched eyes are both soft and blue, the black hair is soft auburn, and the rough touches are gentle.

It is only then, in the darkbloodysrceaming times, that she admits to herself that she loves _him_, not the monster in front of her.

Then she feels the life in her belly stirring, and she remembers that there is no room for make-believe.

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Theme 5: Blind (74 words)

"I'm sorry." She blurts out, her body limp and unresisting as he wrests the knife from her grasp.

"Why?" He asks, holding her bloody wrists.

"For scaring you."

He takes her hands, firmly, and looks deep into her eyes, the blue meeting brown for the first time two months. "I'm sorry too."

"Why?" She asks, startled.

"For being so blind, and not seeing that you needed help." He says simply.

And love is born.

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Theme 6: Old Sayings (86 words)

"_Beware the children of demons." _He mutters to himself, rubbing her pregnant belly absent- mindedly. The old legend of his village echoes in his ears. She is so beautiful, he thinks, but the spawn of a demon lives inside her.

The son of the man he once saw as a brother, and his betrayer.

It takes all his self- control to keep his hand from his dagger and cutting the monster-spawn out. _It's just an old saying. _He says, but he cannot completely stop the shaking.

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Theme 7: Weird (66 words)

He watches her march around in her private quarters, her belly heavy with child (the monster's child, he reminds himself), chanting a prayer to the gods, a prayer of hopepromiselove, a mother-child prayer, a prayer for the future.

It suddenly strikes him how odd the ritual is, and he laughs.

"What?" She turns, blushing.

He pauses to look at her, grinning. "And you call me odd."

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Theme 8: Undone (67 words)

He does not see her for days, but when he does, she is crying, distraught, and noticeably thinner.

"H-he took h-him!" She wails. "He t-took my son!"

She collapses into his arms, sobbing, and it is then that he realizes that her bonds to the Monster have finally come undone, and that she is _his_, and he, even though he knows it is wrong, rejoices to himself.

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Theme 9: Done Away With (119 words)

"Brom, this is my son." She says nervously, holding the one- year- old boy (Monster's son) in her arms. The young child looks up t the man with bright blue eyes solemnly, and he looks back, wary.

"Gaa!" The boy cries, his little arms reaching out. "Gaa!"

Slowly, he picks up the little child, and the boy grabs his graying hair in a tiny fist, gurgling happily, a grin on his little face. "Gaa."

She smiles. "He likes you. Don't you, little Murtagh?"

"Hello, Murtagh." He says softly, holding the child, and then he lets go of his hate, because it is impossible to hate the little, blue-eyed face. (He looks like Morzan, back when he was a brother)

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Theme 10: Crowds (97 words)

He moves behind her in the crowd, his head bowed, watching her. He knows the mission is dangerous, and that the Monster is callous with his greatest servant. So if the Monster will not look out for her, he will. He follows her all day, and waits outside the keep where her bloody work lays.

And when she comes out, her eyes tiredwetdull with killing, he is there, in the crowd, and he opens his arms and holds her.

It is then that he feels the kick of a child, and his heart freezes over in fear.

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Theme 11: Wars (98 words)

He curses the war that keeps him from her, and from his child, who will be born soon, so very soon. Morzan does not know, did not know, until the moment of his death, but before the Monster died, he revealed that his Hand was gone, dead. At the moment, he cursed all wars, the war that had stolen his friends, his dragon, and his very reason for living, and now this war, which had now taken his lover and his child.

When he finally arrives, wet and bloody, she is deadcoldgone, and he cries out in agony.

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Theme 12: You and Me (113 words)

"You promised me." He groans, his voice dull with agony. "You promised…." He buries his head in his hands and slumps against the stone wall. "You promised," he repeats, even though he can't remember exactly what she promised, because all the broken promises blur in his head, run together, a flash of blue, a soft smile from a tired woman, a brotherly glint in a single blue eye. In the back of his bleeding, broken mind, he can only remember her eyes as she spoke some words, words so disjointedjumbledtangled to his ears that he can only make out four, thorn sharp and bright with pain.

"You and me." She (Selenamothersaphira) whispers. "Always."

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Theme 13: Songs (132 words)

"Hush, little Eragon." He whispers in the darkness, standing alone in the center of the baby's room. Garrow, _her_ brother, sleeps soundly. His fingers trail down the sleeping infants face tenderly, softly, looking at the face that looks like Selena's, but also like his own.

The baby boy whimpers softly, wriggling in his cradle.

"Hush, little Eragon." He says again, his voice soft, so he does not wake his son. A fragment of lullaby, a song she sang to him on the sleepless nights, when his eyes were held open by the death and blood, so much blood.

He hums the tune, ready to whisper the words-- and stops, his heart clenching in horrorpainterror, because _he has forgotten the words_, and she, like a brief candle, has burned away from his mind.

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**Whoo, heavy stuff.... fun to write, though. So, review, please!! Share the angstloveangst!! (Damn, that is so much fun!)**

**WSS, I am writing crack for you as we speak!!**

**Also, in my world, before he gets old, Brom has ginger hair!! Yes, dattebyo! Also, he suffers from PTSD, so his memories are often blurredrepressedforgotten. (Still fun).**

**Thunderhowl out!**


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